


Ain't Nobody Here But Us Chickens

by Shazrolane



Series: We'll Meet Again [6]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Chickens, Even down time in a war isn't safe, Gen, sergeant bucky barnes - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-12
Updated: 2016-03-12
Packaged: 2018-05-26 05:26:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6225730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shazrolane/pseuds/Shazrolane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Look out, Sergeant!”  </p><p>“Get out of the way! DUCK!”  </p><p>Bucky ran and dove down behind a ruined stone wall as the furious bird leapt for him, clawing and flapping its wings. </p><p>Bucky dropped his prize, pulled his shoulders up around his ears and depended on his helmet to provide some protection as he frantically tried to fight it off. It was like trying to shove away a tiny, vicious jackhammer. </p><p>“That’s not a duck, it’s a rooster,” Mickle said, taking shelter behind the barn.</p><p>“I don’t need a lesson on fuckin’ poultry!” Bucky shouted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ain't Nobody Here But Us Chickens

[ There Ain’t Nobody Here But Us Chickens](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DGs6TDeXo8E)

“Look out, Sergeant!” 

“Get out of the way! DUCK!” 

Bucky ran and dove down behind a ruined stone wall as the furious bird leapt for him, clawing and flapping its wings. 

Bucky dropped his prize, pulled his shoulders up around his ears and depended on his helmet to provide some protection as he frantically tried to fight it off. It was like trying to shove away a tiny, vicious jackhammer. 

“That’s not a duck, it’s a rooster,” Mickle said, taking shelter behind the barn.

“I don’t need a lesson on fuckin’ poultry!” Bucky shouted. “Why the hell is it attacking me?” He reached up blindly and grabbed the bird, throwing it as far away as possible. It flapped wildly to the ground, then immediately started attacking his shins. The rooster’s claws hadn’t been able to get through his helmet and coat, but his pants fared less well. He ended up doing a bizarre version of a Lindy Hop, trying to dodge the damn thing without actually kicking it. 

“Rooster’s job is to protect his hens, he’s just doing it," Mickle said calmly.

“How the fuck do I get it to stop?”

“Come to me!”

Bucky ran to Mickle flat out, giving it all he could as he aimed for the open door of the barn, where Mickle had a burlap sack open and ready. He heard a muffled thump and an almighty racket. He turned around, his arms up and his body braced for a fight, only to see Mickle calmly holding the bag out while the rooster squawked and fought. The bag was already starting to shred from the bird’s relentless attacks. 

“Get out of the barn, Sergeant!” Mickle put the bag on the ground and wrestled the door shut from the outside. Bucky slunk back to the rest of the boys, his dignity as shredded as his pants.

“Think they’ll give you a ribbon for that one?” Dugan asked, smirking.

“Not for a skirmish,” Hayes answered snidely. “You need a prolonged action.”

* * *

It started simply enough. 

They’d walked into a village after God only knew how many days marching and passed a yard with some chickens wandering around.

“Hey, Sergeant Barnes!” Hayes’d called out. “Go grab us some dinner!”

"Ain't your ma," Bucky replied, but then he'd stopped, eyeing the chickens. 

Chickens were stupid, right? How hard could it be? Bucky jumped the stone wall and grabbed for one. “That’s not…” Mickle trailed, shaking his head as Hayes and Dugan joined in. Every bird scattered, squawking like the entire Nazi army was coming after them. Another one came close so he grabbed at it but all he got was a handful of feathers.

And then the rooster showed up.

* * *

They stayed in that village for eight days, waiting for their supply train and reinforcements to catch up. The yard with the chickens was on the main street of the town. Bucky and his squad had to walk past it twice a day. The rooster attacked Bucky on sight.

Every.

Single.

Goddamned.

Time.

He tried running. He tried fighting it off. He tried bribing it with crackers, but even a chicken was too smart to eat the K rations. 

Nothing stopped the tiny, determined ball of fury. It had been wronged, and it would have its revenge.

Of course, Dugan had heard all of Bucky's stories by then. He named the rooster Steve.

* * *

Bucky got his squad out of latrine duty by trading the promise of fresh eggs. That worked great as long as he could make Mickle get them. But then Mickle got pulled for reconnaissance duty, seeing as how he was one of the few who could actually navigate in the countryside. That left Bucky, because no one else was brave enough to face Steve.

The next morning, he armored up with his sweater, jacket and burlap bags tied onto each leg.

Hayes snickered.

"I hear you volunteering to get them?"

Hayes sobered up immediately. "No, sergeant."

"I hear this squad volunteering to take on latrine duty?"

"No, sergeant," they chorused.

"Damn straight," he grumbled, then jammed his helmet on and stalked off.

The furious squawking, screaming and appeals to God surprised no one, until Bucky came strolling back without a scratch on him and his helmet full of eggs. 

Everyone gaped.

"What the hell, Sergeant?" asked Hayes.

"We heard the screaming," Dugan said.

Bucky grinned. "I remembered the first rule of dealing with Steve. If you need to do something that's going to piss him off, get him mad at someone else first."

Mickle asked with wide eyes, "Who's Steve mad at?"

Bucky's grin reached from ear to ear. "Kensington. I'd noticed that he comes by every day at this time.”

Everyone hated Kensington. All of them grinned.

Dugan swallowed his mouthful of eggs. “What'd you do to get Steve all riled at that meathead anyhow?” 

“Remember that first day, when we chased the chickens all around? Scared the hell outta one hen. So now, every time it sees my sweater, she starts screeching and cackling. So I waved it at her. She starts up and Steve comes running. I threw my sweater at Kensington and ducked behind a wall."

Dugan slapped him on the back. “You're a devious bastard, Sergeant Barnes.”

“That's why I get the big bucks.”

* * *

Mickle gathered the others. “We gotta do something nice for him.”

“Why?” Hayes asked. “He’s not nice to us.” 

“Sergeant got us out of latrine duty,” Mickle reminded Hayes. “Besides, today’s his birthday.”

Hayes gaped. “How the hell do you know that?”

Mickle shrugged. “He mentioned it once. I remember stuff like that.”

“Great. So, what? We get him some nice cake? Maybe some presents?" Hayes gestured around the ruined village, empty except for the men of the 107th. Maybe we can find him some USO girls.

“I think we can manage a cake,” Mickle replied easily. The other two stared at him in shock.

“How the hell do you think we can do a cake?” Dugan asked.

Mickle smiled. “I found some flour in that house with the blue door on the other street. And we’ve got eggs. ” He turned to Dugan. "I just need you to steal some sugar. Oh, and butter too."

Dugan’s grin was nearly as wide as his mustache. “I like this plan!”

* * *

Dugan returned triumphant with bacon drippings, about a teaspoon of sugar and three packets of the "Lemon Flavored Drink" from the K rations that no one had actually dared to try. “Cook came back sooner than I thought," he explained, shrugging. "I grabbed what I could." He gestured at the drink packets. " Those are kinda sweet, right?”

“I don’t know,” Mickle said uncertainly.

“C’mon, it’ll be fine!" Dugan slapped him on the shoulder. "It’ll be lemon cake. Everyone likes lemon cake!”

"I don't like lemon cake," Hayes said.

"No one gives a shit what you like, Hayes."

* * *

Bucky was sitting on his bed in the house, cleaning his rifle, and smoking. He barely grunted in acknowledgement when Hayes came in.

“Cheer up, for fuck's sake,” Hayes said testily. “It’s your fucking birthday.” 

“I know it’s my fucking birthday." Bucky looked up, frowning. " How do _you_ know it’s my fucking birthday?”

Hayes shrugged. “Mickle is some birthday genius. He, remembered it. So, happy birthday.”

“Yeah. Thanks.” Bucky looked down at his rifle again.

That was when the entire rest of the 107th decided to barge into his room. "Look!" Mickle held out something in a pan that smelled vaguely of lemons. It wobbled. “We baked you a cake!” 

“What?”

“A cake! With sugar and everything!” Dugan gestured proudly.

"You did?" Bucky peered at the cake. It was lumpy, blackened in some places and soggy in others. There was no frosting and no candles and it was still in the pan.

They’d made him a cake. 

Goddammed dust in his eyes. 

 

END

**Author's Note:**

> [ A scrawny bantam he’d named Steve. ](http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-UDjSfc6Yqjc/VTKd5KogfQI/AAAAAAAAoSg/vUKM-8ChSmE/s1600/aloha%2Bconfetti%2Brooster.jpg=)


End file.
